The Guardian
by Darkfangz13
Summary: Three bodies turn up in as many days and Lestrade is on the clock to catch the killer... before people close to him are added to the list of casualties. The expanded story of a 'Constantly' snippet but can be read as a stand alone.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a story expanded from a snippet from the unused scenes of my other story 'Constantly'. If you want to check the unused snippet out, go ahead, but there are spoilers. I've altered a few things about it so that it can be read as a stand-alone. So, enjoy!  


P.S. I didn't really know what to call this story so I made it something kind of random. Ignore!

Chapter One

It was a cold, stormy night. Rain drummed rhythmically on the window panes and lightning lit up the London skies followed by rumbling thunder.

In the darkness of the unlit flat, a man sat tensely, like an unsprung coil, on the edge of a wooden chair.

Lightning briefly illuminated the scene and light glanced off something in the man's hands.

A knife. The man's hands moved liquidly around it, tossing it back and forth between them, gripping the handle, running the tip of his thumb agitatedly along the weapon's edge, drawing blood.

He was seated, facing the wall, a wall that was decorated extravagantly with pictures and newspaper cutouts like a psychotic serial killer's wet dream.

A second shock of lightning flashed and the man sprang up, slashing at the wall with his knife.

A hapless newspaper cutout was sliced ruthlessly in half right down in the center of the man in the picture's face.

'Fourth Suicide Found. DI Lestrade, in charge of the investigation.' The cutout from a few years ago proclaimed.

The man smeared scarlet blood over the grim face of DI Lestrade with his cut, free hand.

The man grinned, sharp as a knife in the dark, and chuckles bubbled up out of his throat, gradually growing into loud, hysterical laughter.

Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, the storm was getting closer now...

* * *

"What do you mean, 'you don't know', you little imp?" Lestrade asked his phone, or rather, the person on the other end of the line, with a faint hint of amusement. Donovan opened his office door a crack to poke her head inside and knocked unintrusively.

Lestrade looked up, saw her, and silently motioned her inside. "Alright, Darren, I need to go now, okay? I'll see you in a week or so, behave for your mum, alright?"

Donovan smiled, realizing Lestrade was talking to his six year old son, Darren. He didn't get many opportunities to see his son since the divorce a year ago, his wife left and took their son with her to Dorset. But, despite the many absences and the divorce, Darren still adored his father.

Lestrade presently hung up and turned to Donovan. "What have we got?"

Donovan schooled her face into a grim expression. "Got an unidentified woman in her thirties down at the Thames. It's not good."

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Are there ever any good ones?" he asked rhetorically.

"Two of our boys vomited, Sir." Donovan added.

Lestrade paused for a moment before grabbing his coat. "That bad?"

"Yep."

"They didn't-..."

"No, the crime scene is still intact." Donovan sighed in relief. "It's a good thing they managed to get out of the perimeter before they did the deed."

"Uh, huh. Small mercies."

* * *

"Ugh." Lestrade grunted from behind a handkerchief when he stooped over the corpse.

He could smell the thing from afar off and the stench of rotting flesh didn't get much better up close and personal.

"Yep, this one's a real piece of work." The M.E, an elderly man in spectacles named Fulton, said.

"What can you tell me?" Lestrade asked.

"The real question..." Dr. Fulton grimaced as he prodded the corpse gingerly. "...is what you want to know?"

"Cause of death?"

"Single gunshot to the head."

"Time?"

"It's been days." Dr. Fulton sighed. "Going by the state of decomposition... maybe four or five."

"Is that ash?" Lestrade asked, pointing at a dark layer of black filming across the corpse.

Dr. Fulton nodded soberly. "From what it looks like, I think the body was set on fire at one point or another."

"Jesus."

"Post-mortem, I believe."

"Still..."

"I don't hold much hope out for the killer's DNA remaining." Dr. Fulton remarked in a delightfully mournful way.

"You think the killer lit the body on fire to destroy DNA evidence?" Lestrade asked him incredulously.

"I can only imagine." Dr. Fulton shrugged.

"What's this, then?" Lestrade wondered as he pointed to the victim's wrist.

There was a thin chain of bells that made a cheery jingling noise when they shook, wrapped around the victim's arm.

"Don't know." Dr. Fulton frowned and called someone over to bag the evidence.

Lestrade seeing that nothing else could be done at the moment, stood up, looking around the crime scene. "We need to get a specialist to calculate how far up the river the body must've been dumped at." he said. "Do we have a name for our victim?"

"No identification." Donovan told him, annoyed.

"But there are maggots." Dr. Fulton chimed in cheerfully from his place by the corpse, not even looking up. "Things are always better with maggots."

Only a last-minute glare from Lestrade stopped Donovan from retorting 'we don't need no bloody maggots!' if the doctor was happy, it made for good, quick autopsy reports. But _maggots_... Both shuddered. "Right. Maggots." Lestrade sighed.

"How could we forget?" Donovan agreed solemnly.

"We'll leave you to it." Lestrade said hurriedly as Dr. Fulton began scooping out and collecting the maggots efficiently from the bullet wound and into a jar.

Donovan squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the urge to vomit.

* * *

"Alright." Donovan sighed a several hours later when she showed herself into Lestrade's office. She handed Lestrade a styrofoam cup of coffee and stuck a picture of an attractive young lady up onto his murder board. "Lucy Spring. Our victim."

"An' 'oo ish'ee?" Lestrade asked through a gulp of coffee.

"I'll take that as you asking who she is." Donovan smiled, Lestrade nodded. "Lucy Spring is a kindergarten teacher, has a family in Central London. The last time they saw here was a week ago, she just disappeared. They filed a missing persons report but nothing came of it. I went down and talked to them a little but they don't know if she had any enemies. But... she did have a boyfriend, broke up with him last month."

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. "Boyfriend?"

"Scott Hector, works odd jobs, overall arse from what people said about him." Donovan shrugged, flipping through a file. "Never stays in one place for long, no notable friends or family and, _holy shit_, he-..."

"... Used to be a cop." Donovan's head shot up and only then did she realize that Lestrade had dropped his head in his hands. "I knew him." Lestrade groaned. "I thought the name sounded familiar."

"Sir?"

After a long moment, Lestrade lifted his face and shook his head. "Back when I was still a constable." he sighed. "Hector was a sergeant at the time, used to work with my old governor, DI Meadows."

The look on his face hinted at a much longer story. Donovan pulled up a chair and sat down.

Lestrade looked at her, faint beginnings of annoyance glinting in his eye. "Oi, we're not sure he's our killer, are we?"

Donovan shook her head. "No." But she didn't move to leave.

Lestrade stared, hoping she's drop the subject, Donovan matched him, dashing his hopes. Finally, Lestrade relented. "Um... what to say?" he floundered.

"You said he was a sergeant?" Donovan prompted.

"Yeah. Pretty regular, I mean, he wasn't extraordinary, or anything." Lestrade shrugged. "He wasn't fantastic... but he wasn't bad either. He was one of those in-betweens, you know?"

Donovan raised her eyebrows.

"Don't worry Donovan, you're the fantastic sort."

Donovan smiled.

"There isn't much to say, really." Lestrade scratched his head. "We didn't like each other all that much. And then he retired early, a few months later, I became sergeant."

Donovan blinked. "Wait, that's it?"

Lestrade blinked back. "What, did you think there was some heart-wrenching story behind it?" he teased. "That we were actually secretly brothers? What?"

Donovan shook her head. "Nevermind." she said. "You just looked like you had a story."

A troubled expression came over Lestrade's face. "Oh, nah." he grimaced. "It's just... sorry, it's probably just the long-standing rivalry talking." Lestrade threw his hands up in surrender. "It's just that, for a long time, there was something about Hector that didn't sit right with me. I always had the feeling that something was..._ off_. Not quite right about him."

Donovan looked slightly concerned. "Do you know what it was?"

Lestrade shook his head grimly. "Like I said, it was just... a feeling."

* * *

That night, when Lestrade returned to his flat from work, he found an off-white card stuck to the knocker on the front door. He paused and pulled it out of its place.

**_Game on. And let the best man win._**

Lestrade promptly turned around and stalked back to his car and drove back to the Yard.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"What's this?" Donovan asked when she arrived at work and found her boss already in his office and hunched over his desk, studying something.

Lestrade's head jumped up. "Oh, hey Donovan." he greeted wearily as he leaned back and stretched, popping his spine a few times.

Donovan took the opportunity to round his desk and pick up the white card Lestrade had been looking at. "Game on." she read. "And let the best man win."

Lestrade grunted and rubbed his face tiredly. "Yup."

"What's this?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Lestrade shrugged. "I found it on my door."

"You think it has something to do with the case?" Donovan asked him concernedly.

"I don't know. It's a definite possibility."

"You'll have to admit, the timing is suspicious." Donovan grunted before slapping down a newspaper onto Lestrade's desk in afterthought. "Made front page, our case."

"What? Seriously, you'd think there was nothing better for journalists to write about." Lestrade groaned, picking up the paper and absently flipping through it as if at home.

"Did you run this through the lab?" Donovan asked, waving the card aloft.

"Yep, no DNA traces." Lestrade sighed. "And it was printed out on a computer."

"Handwriting analysis is useless, then?" Donovan sighed sympathetically. "You want me to put it up?" She gestured to the murder board.

"No." Lestrade shook his head, taking the card back from his sergeant and locking it away in his desk drawer. "Not until we're certain that it has something to do with the case."

Just then, a pale-faced PC knocked and poked her head into the office. "Um, there's just been another body called in." she squeaked.

Lestrade nodded. "Thanks."

The young lady gave a timid little half-bow and scurried off.

"Crime never sleeps." Donovan sighed.

"And here I was hoping to get a bite to eat before the serious work." Lestrade groaned in despair.

"Well I'm reconsidering the wisdom in eating." Donovan replied dryly.

Lestrade recalled the state the first body had been in and nodded in grim agreement. "Optimistic as always, Donovan."

"I live to please."

* * *

"Oh, God." Donovan covered her nose and mouth the moment they approached the autopsy table in the morgue.

"'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.'" Dr. Fulton droned in his usual macabre humor.

"Good thing I didn't eat." Lestrade remarked, carefully blank-faced.

Donovan turned and rushed out of the room, face ashen.

"Ignoring that, what can you tell me?" Lestrade asked when the doors closed behind Donovan.

"Same as our first victim, our man's cause of death was a shot to the head, same caliber." Dr. Fulton pointed to the entry wound on the male corpse. "Again, same as our first victim, the corpse was lit on fire post-mortem and then dumped into the Thames."

"Time?"

"Probably about a day or two ago." Dr. Fulton estimated.

"Our killer burns his victims." Lestrade mused aloud. "So he must have somewhere to do it, right?"

"Seems like it."

"And nobody notices the smell?" Lestrade wondered skeptically. "In Central London?"

"Maybe people do smell it, they just don't know it." Dr. Fulton pointed out. "It's not like everybody in Central London knows what burning flesh smells like."

"Point. Do we have a name for this bloke?" Lestrade gestured vaguely to the autopsy table.

"We don't, but I lifted several fragments of burnt clothes from the body and the lab is processing them right now." Dr. Fulton informed him.

"Okay, thanks." Lestrade thanked him.

"And speaking of, I catalogued the maggots on Lucy Spring's body." Dr. Fulton continued.

Lestrade took a moment to remember the wriggling mass inside the corpse and shivered. "What about them?"

Dr. Fulton took off his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his lab coat before placing them back on his nose. "Turns out, there were species of fly both consistent and inconsistent with the location of the body. The more noteworthy species are native to more suburban areas." he told Lestrade.

"You mean the body was stashed somewhere in the suburbs before being moved into the city and tossed into the Thames?" Lestrade scribbled in his notes.

"Seems so." Dr. Fulton confirmed.

Note to self: never underestimate the maggots. They know where you hide the bodies. Lestrade thought to himself and forced himself to smile gratefully. "Thanks doctor."

"I also found this at the second crime scene, also worn around the wrist." Dr. Fulton handed Lestrade a baggie with a chain of sea shells inside.

"Shells this time." Lestrade grunted. "Never know what's coming next."

And he walked out.

Outside he joined Donovan, who still looked slightly ill. "Should've passed up on that breakfast." she moaned as she fell into step. "What's that?" she asked, staring pointedly at the bag in his hand.

Lestrade handed it to her. "Cockle shells. Put it with the rest of the evidence. I'll go talk to the people to discovered the body."

Donovan nodded and walked off.

* * *

Later that day, Lestrade pulled up at Mycroft Holmes's Kensington home and got out. He walked up to the front door and reached for the doorbell.

He was startled when the door opened before he could manage to press the button.

Mycroft stood there, eyes slightly widened in surprise. "Gregory!" he smiled warmly. "You should've told me you were coming."

Lestrade pecked his boyfriend on the cheek in greeting. "Well, sorry about that, Mycroft." he apologized sheepishly. "It was a sort of unplanned visit."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it might be nothing, but the killer in my current case might've dropped off a note at my flat last night. I mean, I'm not certain of it, but I don't want to take chances." Lestrade explained as Mycroft led the way into the sitting room. "I was hoping to stay over here a while until I sort things out."

"Of course." Mycroft replied immediately. "You shouldn't take things like that lightly."

Only then did Lestrade notice Mycroft's traveling bag by the door. "You're going someplace?" he asked curiously.

"You know my work." Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes and turning his palms upward helplessly. "I was just about to call you when you appeared at the door."

"Well, speak of the Devil." Lestrade joked. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"A few days." Mycroft shrugged. "At most a week, you never know in my line of work."

"Well, don't let me keep you." Lestrade smiled at him.

Mycroft smiled back and kissed him warmly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I don't trust you in my house alone for long periods of time." he teased.

"Hey!" Lestrade squawked in mock indignance. "In my defense, I only trashed your house _once!_"

"And the repairs are still undergoing." Mycroft returned with a smirk.

"That's it!" Lestrade pretended to seethe. "Kiss your Ming vase goodbye!"

Mycroft laughed and kissed him again. "You love that vase."

"It's pretty." Lestrade conceded.

"See you soon."

"See you when you get back."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Lestrade was still up late into the night, going over the details of his case in Mycroft's office, when the call came. He absently picked it up and answered without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"

_"Greg?"_ Lestrade instantly snapped to attention, putting down his file.

"Eva?" His divorced wife.

_"Oh."_ she huffed out a slightly bitter laugh._ "I knew you'd still be awake."_ she said knowingly.

Lestrade winced. "Uh... did you need something?" he asked.

Eva took a deep breath. _"Darren had a nightmare, he wanted 'Daddy'."_ she informed him. _"I didn't know if you were awake or not or if you were busy, but Darren absolutely refused to go back to bed without at least trying to talk to you."_ she chuckled slightly. _"He's a stubborn one."_ she said fondly.

"Alright, you let me talk to him." Lestrade smiled softly.

There was the sound of fumbling before Darren's voice reached his ears._ "Daddy?"_

"Hey there, Darren." Lestrade cooed soothingly, all doting parent with his son. "I heard you're having trouble sleeping?"

_"I couldn't sleep because bad dreams happened."_ Darren replied, slightly muffled and Lestrade knew he was chewing his lips.

"Hey, hey, stop that." Lestrade ordered gently.

_"Hm?"_ Still muffled.

"Darren Joseph Lestrade, stop biting your lips." Lestrade chuckled.

There was a slight gasp on the other end._ "How did you know, Daddy?"_ Bless him, he was so easy to amaze. Like many six year olds.

"I'm a detective." he replied confidently.

_"You catch the bad guys?"_ Darren smiled, finally not biting his lip.

"Yeah, I do."

_"You'll catch the Nightmare Man too?"_ Darren asked him, wide-eyed.

The Nightmare Man? Lestrade chuckled and shook his head at his son's antics. "Sure, why don't you tell me about him?"

_"He's like a ghost! And he's all black, and scary!"_ Darren declared. _"But Daddy's like Jack Frost, so it's okay!"_

Lestrade dropped his head in his hand. And here it came, the hard part of parenting... He had no idea what his son was talking about. "What?"

_"He has white hair like you!"_ Darren squealed excitedly.

"Hey, it's silver!" Lestrade protested playfully.

_"And he's always in the snow, he must get sick alot!"_ Darren laughed.

There were more fumbles and Eva came back on. _"Rise of the Guardians. It's Darren's new favorite movie."_ Eva explained.

"Oh."

_"Yeah, he's just about obsessed."_

"He says I'm like Jack Frost." Lestrade shrugged.

_"Well, you fight the Nightmare Men."_ Eva smiled sadly. There was a prolonged stretch of silence. _"Anyway, I should get Darren back to bed."_

"Alright, goodnight." Lestrade said. "And tell Darren 'Goodnight'."

_"Alright. Goodnight, Greg."_

Lestrade cut the connection and sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had stayed up nearly the whole previous night when he found the card on his front door and he was exhausted.

He dragged himself through a sluggish shower and then threw himself on Mycroft's bed.

He had only closed his eyes for about seven minutes before his phone began ringing. He reached out blindly and picked it up. "'llo?" he grunted sleepily. Then he opened his eyes and sat up, fully awake. "You've got to be kidding me!"

* * *

"Three bodies turn up in as many days?" Lestrade said incredulously as he and Donovan met up outside the crime scene.

"We haven't even identified our second victim yet." Donovan grunted around her coffee cup. "Bloody sicko."

Lestrade eyed her and her coffee. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked dubiously.

Donovan paused for a moment. "Stay awake? Or puke it up? Life sure is full of hard choices." she groaned, but passed her coffee off to some other officer.

"Sacrifices have to be made." Lestrade agreed, yawning. "God I need sleep."

"Ditto."

Dr. Fulton saw them coming before they even reached the body. "Same MO. Female victim, mid-twenties, no ID, died sometime today." he reported.

Lestrade and Donovan exchanged looks. "Today?"

"Yep. Looks like he ran out of his stash of corpses." Donovan settled Dr. Fulton with a blank look at that. "One thing, I _did_ find, though." The doctor continued, ignoring Donovan and her look. He pointed to a smooth, painted doll by the victim's side.

"A Matryoshka doll." Lestrade grimaced.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary." Donovan said beside him.

Lestrade stopped and turned to her, staring at her as if she had gone mad. "What?"

"Well, once you think about it..." Donovan made a 'you see?' gesture.

"Sorry, I'm not too familiar with the rhyme." Lestrade deadpanned.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary," Donovan began reciting. "How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row."

"Bells, cockle shells, and Matryoshka dolls." Lestrade mused. "Well done, Donovan, I'll keep that in mind. But what does it mean?"

Donovan shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe our killer is just a psycho."

Lestrade dropped his head in his hands and sighed in despair.

"I need to get this woman to the lab." Dr. Fulton announced.

Lestrade just waved him off without raising his head.

* * *

"So, we've got nothing that ties our victims together." Lestrade grumbled as he tacked up two additional pictures of the second victim - Henry Gareth - and their third victim.

Partial facial recognition and fragments of clothes on the third victim had given them the name of their third victim - Tina Hayes - a few hours ago, the second victim had been identified to be Henry Garth by his brother a few minutes ago.

"Oh, come on, there has to be something." Donovan groaned, glaring at the murder board.

"Umm, nope. They nothing to indicate they've ever met, or even knew the others existed." Lestrade shrugged helplessly.

"This serial killer has no set victim type in regards to physical looks or character." Donovan chimed in. "Maybe they were all crimes of opportunity?"

Lestrade thought about that for a while. "No, that don't make sense. Our killer had the presence of mind to take measures in destroying DNA evidence. That indicates a level of planning."

Donovan grimaced and stared at the murder board, not looking at anything in particular. "I'm going to question the family and friends of our victims again." she finally decided.

"No use moping around in here." Lestrade agreed and stood up, grabbing the case file.

Donovan saw his movement and let out a low groan. "Oh, no... you're thinking of bringing the Freak in, aren't you?"

Lestrade sent her a pointed glare and walked out, letting his actions answer her question.

The door shut behind him with a heavy bang.

* * *

That night, Donovan locked up her car in the parking lot and stalked to her flat, grumbling all the while.

Bloody Freak.

There was a jingle as her flat key slipped out of her fingers and fell to the ground. Donovan cursed and bent to pick it up. "Bloody Hell, I need sleep!" she groaned as she grabbed her key and straightened.

She barely saw a shadow cut through the light of the street lamp behind her when there was the unmistakable click of a gun's safety being flicked off.

The copper froze.

_"Mary, Mary, quite contrary."_ A voice said, tampered with a voice changing device to sound scratchy and mechanical. _"Clever girl."_

"W-who are you?" Donovan asked in a tone that was meant to be stern, but only managed to sound scared. She tried to turn around to see her attacker, but the gun pressed to the back of her head stopped her.

_"This does not concern you."_ The voice said, ignoring her question._ "**He** was supposed to figure it out. Not you."_ A moment of mechanical breathing. _"For your own sake, Sergeant Donovan, you should pull out of this case."_

The gun was angled a few inches away from her head.

**_Bang! Bang!_**

Donovan heard a shrill scream and after a moment or two, realized it was her own.

_"Consider this a warning."_ And her attacker was gone.

Donovan's knees buckled and she fell flat on her arse, in shock, trembling. It took her a few minutes to face the reality of how close to death she had come. She had never felt so afraid in her entire life. Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes just as the sounds of police sirens drew near.

Tears were running down her face by the time the response team on call for that night showed up. It was only hours later when her sobs finally ceased.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

When Donovan woke up the next morning, the first thing she smelled was coffee and scrambled eggs.

The sun was shining, traffic could be heard, and her bed was comfy and warm. It was almost enough to make her forget about what happened last night. ... _Almost._

Five minutes later, she finally dragged herself out of bed and threw on a bathrobe before wandering out of her room.

Wendy, a friend of hers from dispatch was bustling around in her kitchenette, making breakfast. "Morning, Sally!" the young woman greeted, a look of concern on her face. "Are you alright?"

Donovan breathed in, and let it out slowly. "Sure. All things considered." she replied neutrally.

"Hope you didn't mind me staying the night." Wendy continued chattering, eager to keep the conversation flowing. "You didn't look like you'd mind."

"To tell the truth, I'm just glad that there was someone in the flat with me." Donovan confessed.

"You should thank your Detective Inspector, too." Wendy smiled. "That lovely Mister Lestrade, he stuck around after all the rest of the boys went home." The dispatch officer had always had a soft spot for the handsome detective.

"Lestrade? Is he here?" Donovan self-consciously ran a hand through her wild hair.

"Oh, he's out _now_." Wendy assured her. "He stayed the night, but went out to get some milk. You ran out."

Donovan blushed. "Yeah, I did."

Great, now her superior officer knew she was a forgetful woman who never had any proper food in the house. Next thing she'll know, Lestrade will write out shopping lists for her and will remind her to go shopping every time she leaves work. Not to mention all the health lectures he'd put her through if he saw all those microwave dinners in her freezer. ... Oh, who was she kidding? Of course he saw them!

Donovan dropped her head in her hands and let out a groan. It was one thing to have a DI who worried about her safety, it was another thing to have Lestrade father her. God knew he had those sort of tenancies to just jump in and help out.

It was widely rumored that that was how they got stuck with the Freak. Lestrade should stop feeding the strays.

Just then, the front door handle rattled. Donovan jumped with fright.

Then, the door opened and Lestrade walked in. "Oh, Donovan!" he smiled kindly. "How are you holding up?" Sure enough, the plastic shopping bag he was carrying didn't have only milk inside. Donovan inwardly groaned.

"I'm doing okay, I think." she replied.

Lestrade sidled past her into the kitchen and plopped the shopping bag onto the counter. Oh, and out came the milk, yogurt, fruits, and vegetables...

Lestrade suddenly turned around and narrowed his eyes at his sergeant.

"Please don't start, Sir." Donovan sighed almost pleadingly.

"Sally June Donovan, I know what's in your fridge." Lestrade cut her off sternly. _"Mold."_

Donovan grimaced and braced herself for the reprimand of her life. I mean, he pulled out the _middle name. _And, well..._ mold!  
_

* * *

"Dull." Sherlock groaned, tossing the case file into the air haphazardly and trusting John to dive after it.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade sighed.

"I'm sure even you can handle a simple case like this!" Sherlock exclaimed indignantly. "John may think I'm a magician with solving cases, but I don't put out for birthday parties!"

"Please?" Lestrade asked.

"This is a two-point-five case." Sherlock declared. "No."

"Three bodies turn up in the same number of days. And I don't see any indication of this serial killer stopping there." Lestrade pointed out.

"Look at the decomposition of the bodies!" Sherlock huffed. "The first one must've died days ago!"

"The last one died yesterday." Lestrade shot back. "Our killer's probably out there killing, now!"

"Something to look forward to." Sherlock scoffed apathetically.

"Sherlock!" Both Lestrade and John chorused in the same appalled tone.

"What?" Sherlock whined like a kicked dog at being outmatched.

"We believe the killer approached Donovan outside her flat last night." Lestrade told him after a moment of silence.

Sherlock immediately took interest. "Jesus, is she alright?" John asked, concerned.

"The killer warned her off the case and fired twice in warning." Lestrade continued. "Nobody was hurt but Donovan was pretty understandably shaken. She's taking some time off." He spread his hands, palms up. "I'm asking you, Sherlock. Please?"

John's stern look forbade Sherlock from refusing the case. Damn him.

"Fine."

Lestrade nodded his thanks and left.

Sherlock's phone buzzed with an incoming text. _Killer may have visited Lestrade's flat and left message. Failure to apprehend unacceptable. -MH_

Sherlock read the message and snorted. Then, he jumped up from his chair and grabbed his coat. "Come on, John!" he exclaimed. "Time to see some dead people."

"Oh, wonderful." John sighed, but followed..

* * *

"Mary, Mary, quite... contrary." Lestrade recited slowly as he wrote the words down on the murder board.

Those obviously meant something to the killer if Donovan was warned off the case because of it.

Lestrade yawned and reminded himself to go check up on her later. He sat at his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't had a proper sleep since the beginning of the case because of all the mysterious messages left on his doorstep, bodies being discovered, and Donovan nearly being killed.

He felt himself slipping away and shook himself with a grunt. That's it, he was going home.

Well, not _his_ home, Mycroft's home. Yeah. There.

Lestrade pulled his coat on and decided to call a cab instead of driving. He might be too tired for that. He dialed for a cab just as he was leaving the Yard only to see a black car pull up.

Anthea opened the back passenger door. "Inspector Lestrade." she greeted.

"Oh, I am so not awake enough for this." Lestrade groaned to himself, then stopped. "Shit, I said that aloud, didn't I?"

Anthea smiled half-sympathetic, half-wry. "Yeah."

Lestrade rolled his eyes and got in the car. "Where are we going?"

"To Mister Holmes's office." Anthea replied in clipped tones.

"I thought Mycroft was overseas." Lestrade said dumbly.

"His office does not travel with him, I assure you." Anthea replied breezily.

Lestrade leveled her a flat look. "What's going on?"

"Security breach." Anthea said simply and typed away on her Blackberry.

_I got a new hobby. I love my phone. Security breach. Lovely day, isn't it?_

Lestrade thought it was amazing how Anthea could say such things so casually. "Right."

"This was left for you on the doorstep." Anthea continued, handing him a brown envelope without even looking. "And don't worry, we've had it tested for poisons, explosives, and anything threatening under the planet, really. It's safe to open."

Lestrade looked at the envelope and realized, for the first time, that it hadn't been opened. How nice of her.

He wedged his fingernail under the lip of the envelope and ripped it open neatly.

He tipped the envelope and several glossy photos slid out.

"Stop." Lestrade paled dangerously, staring at the mess of colour in his lap. "Stop the car, _right now!_"

The car screeched to a halt.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Turn around." Lestrade faltered with his words weakly. "I need to get back to the Yard."

Anthea and Mycroft's driver exchanged puzzled glances through the rear view mirror but the car turned around.

"What is it?" Anthea asked Lestrade.

One of the photographs on Lestrade's lap slipped off his leg as the car U-turned and Anthea reached down to pick it up.

She inhaled sharply and quickly stabbed out a text on her Blackberry.

"Oh, God..." Lestrade croaked, staring at the photographs.

Chocolate brown eyes, the same colour as Lestrade's, stared off to the side from under soft brown bangs. White little teeth peeked past smiling lips as the boy in the pictures grinned.

_Darren._

"How...?"

It was easy to see that Darren was not looking at the camera in any of the pictures and they looked as if they were taken in secret from a distance.

Some pictures were of Darren at the park with Eva, some saw him playing by himself outside the house, some even peeked through windows to watch Darren and his mother eat dinner.

Lestrade felt sick but he bit back the bile.

"Inspector..." Anthea called out, staring at the back of the photo she had picked up.

Lestrade looked over at her.

_**4:45 p.m. Drawing with Mommy. **_Was printed out in neat letters on the back of the picture._** Drawing pictures of Daddy catching the Nightmare Man.**_

"He's been stalking them for a while." Anthea pointed out, looking a little sick herself.

Lestrade picked up a picture from his lap and turned it over.

**_7:30 p.m. I want to grow up to be a policeman like Daddy!_**

Was typed onto the back of a picture of Darren playing Cops and Robbers with Eva in the yard.

"I've got people going over there now." Anthea assured Lestrade firmly. "They'll find him."

Lestrade just bit his lip and sat in silence until they returned to Scotland Yard.

* * *

"Lestrade?" Dimmock asked, poking his head into Lestrade's office. "You're in early."

Lestrade grunted, staring at a batch of photographs on his desk.

"You look like Hell, mate. Did you even go home last night?" Dimmock entered the room fully and walked over to Lestrade's desk. "Oh, is that little Darren? The last picture you showed me of him, he was still just a tiny baby!" he enthused. "He's growing up so big now!"

"Uh, huh." Lestrade grunted again. "Yeah."

"Okay, what's wrong?" Dimmock asked. "Usually, you'd be going all 'Proud Father' on me when you see or talk to Darren. Usually, if you start talking, I won't be able to get you to stop."

Lestrade sighed and pushed away from his desk, leaning back in his seat. "These pictures didn't come from Eva." he stated.

"So?" Dimmock asked, still not getting it.

"I don't know who they came from." Lestrade told him flatly.

"What do you mean-..." Dimmock trailed off, suddenly understanding. "Oh. ... Oh, _shit_."

"'Oh, shit.' Is right." Lestrade frowned back.

"Are they okay?" Dimmock worried.

"I called Eva last night and told her to stay in the house and lock up. Mycroft's sending some of his boys over to keep an eye on them." Lestrade let out a big yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"You should really get some sleep." Dimmock advised seriously.

"I will when I know Darren and Eva are safe." Lestrade said. Dimmock raised his eyebrows dubiously. "Alright, when I say that, I mean 'when this guy is behind bars'."

"Go to sleep." Dimmock ordered him firmly. "You're no use to anybody half dead."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, but slouched lower in his seat.

Dimmock stared at him for a long moment. "You're not going to move from there, are you?" he said, more of a statement than a question.

Lestrade grunted wearily in reply and shook his head.

"Alright, I'll go get you a blanket or something."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

* * *

A few hours later, Lestrade was woken up from his much needed sleep by Sherlock and John.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock called a second time since sweeping in. "Wake up, I haven't got all day!"

"Jesus, Sherlock, look at him, he looks pretty awful." John winced at the massive eye bags under Lestrade's eyes. "Let him sleep!"

"No use now." Lestrade groaned, shifting in his seat under the shock blanket Dimmock had gotten him. "I'm awake now. What is it, Sherlock?"

Sherlock fairly pranced over. "Sewers." he grinned cheerfully.

Lestrade stared dumbly, still not entirely awake. "Huh?"

"Oh, don't be obtuse!" Sherlock scoffed disdainfully. "How else would your killer, male by my deductions, dump a body in the Thames without someone seeing him?"

"Sewers?" Lestrade raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. We even got you evidence of the bodies being incinerated in a grill set up in the sewers." Sherlock told him. "Typical of people, they smell something awful in the gutter and brush it off on the excuse that it's probably the sewage. Think of it, they've been walking above burning bodies all the while."

"_'We'?_ Excuse you, _I_ got the evidence." John snorted at Sherlock, then he stage-whispered to Lestrade. "He didn't want to risk the sewers and made me do all the dirty work."

"Yes, thank you, John." Sherlock breezed over that.

"And I really mean it; thanks." Lestrade smiled gratefully to the ex-army doctor.

Sherlock handed over a baggie to Lestrade, who took it and examined the dark contents. "I'd be careful with that, by the way." Sherlock sweetly informed him.

Lestrade raised his head cautiously at Sherlock's tone. "Why?"

John cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I - um -... found-it-in-the-grill." he rushed out quickly, the last few words morphing into one continuous word.

Lestrade froze, then dropped the baggie onto his desk as if it had burned him.

"Oh, God..."

* * *

"Well, DNA results are back." Dr. Fulton told Lestrade cheerfully, placing Sherlock's baggie carefully in a metal dish. "Say hello to a small part of Ms. Hayes."

Lestrade grimaced. "I'll take a rest on the pleasantries, thanks."

"I hear you have a grill for me?" Dr. Fulton raised an eyebrow.

"It's on its way."

"Excellent." The M.E rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Never done a grill before. Oh, and before I forget, I called in on a few fellow specialists and asked about those maggots you always flinch at hearing about."

"And?" Lestrade asked, resisting the urge to grimace.

"Well, it seems like the maggots found in the first victim - Lucy Spring - coincide with the type of fly native to the area around her family home." Dr. Fulton informed him.

"So, she was over at her parents' house when she disappeared, her killer must've also been out there and hid her body in the area." Lestrade frowned. "But then, he came to Central London, killed the second victim - James Theodore - and then _went back_ to retrieve Lucy Spring's body and dumped her in the Thames, followed by James Theodore, and the last victim, Tina Hayes?"

"Seems to be." Dr. Fulton shrugged.

"_Seems_ to not make any sense!" Lestrade groaned.

"Well, that's not my problem." Dr. Fulton shooed Lestrade out. "If you'll excuse me, I have a grill to prepare for."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Lestrade was startled to see Donovan sitting at her desk when he returned to the Yard. "What are you doing here?" He asked her. "I mean, not that I'm not glad to see you. Are you alright?"

Donovan rolled her eyes. "You said to 'take some time off'. I took some time off."

"I didn't mean _that_ short of a time." Lestrade said.

"Well tough." Both coppers knew that Lestrade had the authority to order Donovan to go back home... both also knew that if Donovan felt she was ready for this, Lestrade would trust her judgement.

"Alright, so where are we?" Lestrade sighed at his stubborn sergeant.

"I questioned the first victim - Lucy Spring's - family before I ran into our guy with a gun. They said that Lucy had came out of Central London to visit them. That was the first time that they heard she had broken up with her long-standing boyfriend, Scott Hector, our ex-cop. She didn't say why they broke up, only that they had. And... you'll never guess who showed up a few hours after Lucy got to the parent's house."

Lestrade sat down at his desk and propped his head up on one hand. "Scott Hector?" he hazarded.

"Right on." Donovan nodded. "He showed up at the house, uninvited, and caused a ruckus. He called Lucy a 'lying, murdering bitch', according to eye witnesses."

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. "And I assume you asked what that was all about?"

"I did." Donovan nodded. "But, the thing is... Lucy didn't want to talk about it." Lestrade groaned and rolled his eyes. "Her family tried to coax the story out of her but..."

"... The killer got to her before they did?" Lestrade finished her sentence.

"Just our luck, right?"

"Alright." Lestrade slapped his hand down on his desk and pushed himself up. "I'm going over to Lucy Spring's house to see if I can find something that will tell us what happened."

"If you're thinking of leaving me here to handle the easy jobs and paperwork..." Donovan narrowed her eyes. "... I will serve you decaf."

Lestrade looked at her in horror. "Dear God, not the decaf!"

* * *

"Clothes folded neatly away, food stocked up - well - rotting now... " Donovan turned in a circle in Lucy Spring's sitting room and turned her palms up. "Nothing to indicate a struggle of any sort. She's just a normal girl living a normal life."

"Unlike someone else who has _rotten food_ in her fridge." Lestrade teased back.

"Alright, so I'm not kitchen goddess material." Donovan groused back. "But, seriously..."

"Two toothbrushes in the sink." Lestrade called out from the bathroom. "Two different shampoos, body soap, men's clothing in the closet..."

"So, they lived together."

"Pretty happy too, looks like." Lestrade said, walking into the kitchen and seeing a collage of pictures of Lucy Spring and Scott Hector pasted on the fridge.

"What happened?" Donovan wondered. "What did Lucy do?"

Lestrade caught sight of something he hadn't expected to see on the floor behind the fridge. It had probably fallen there and hadn't been spotted by the police officers who had been through here previously.

He dropped to his knees and reached behind the fridge to grab the object. He felt his fingers close around the item and he pulled it out. He paled when he realized what he was holding.

"Oh, shit. That explains things." he murmured, stunned.

"What does?" Donovan asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

Lestrade held the object up for her inspection. "This. It explains why Lucy was a 'lying, murdering bitch' and why they broke up." He tossed it onto the island table in the kitchen.

"It also gives Scott Hector one Hell of a motive if he didn't know about it." Donovan agreed.

They both stood in the kitchen, hovering over Lucy Spring's pregnancy test indicating a positive result.

"He probably didn't know about it." Lestrade said.

"Lucy might not have been ready for a baby." Donovan suggested.

"She lied about the pregnancy test. She probably thought she could get away with telling Hector she wasn't pregnant." Lestrade ran his hand through his hair.

"Taking what Hector said to her at her parent's house, she probably got an abortion without his knowledge." Donovan said grimly.

"And maybe he found the pregnancy test and realized she had lied to him and got an abortion."

"From his point of view, she had killed their child."

"That would definitely be motive to break up and kill her." Lestrade said.

"I'll check up on the other victims. Maybe they were in similar positions." Donovan said. "This might be what ties the victims together."

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary." Lestrade murmured thoughtfully.

"Sir?"

"Lucy Spring was a kindergarten teacher, that must've been one of her favorite rhymes." Lestrade shook his head. "Anyway, get investigating on that abortion lead."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Lestrade had not expected to run headfirst into Mycroft Holmes when he returned to Scotland Yard, but here he was.

Mycroft didn't look in the least happy. "Gregory." He greeted in clipped tones.

"Hey, Mycroft." Lestrade grimaced. "Sorry about your security breach."

Mycroft opened his mouth, and then closed it. Then, he turned and shut the door to Lestrade's office and lowered the shades to make sure they were not observed in any way.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to Lestrade and let out a breath. "Gregory, sometimes you drive me mad."

Lestrade quirked a wry smile. "As always, a pleasure, I'm sure."

"I wasn't worried about the security breach."

Lestrade's shoulders fell and he sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, Mycroft."

Mycroft crossed the room and gently took Lestrade into his arms. It took a moment or two for Lestrade to relax and melt against him. "How is Darren?"

"Okay, I guess." Lestrade murmured. "Eva's scared, as she should be. And she's more than angry. First she divorces me because I spend too little time with the family, and even when we're divorced, serial killers are stalking her and our son."

"It's not your fault." Mycroft told him soothingly.

"Sorry Mycroft, but it kind of is." Lestrade said, mouth half pressed against Mycroft's shoulder.

"You're only doing you job." Mycroft said. "And this kind of response merely means that you're doing it well."

Lestrade's eyes softened. "Darren's my son, Mycroft." he said. "I think I'm entitled to completely lose my shit about things like this."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't." Mycroft snorted. "I'm just saying I'm slightly upset that you didn't tell me about it. I heard about it from Anthea."

"I thought that was kind of a given."

"She says you may know your serial killer?"

"Maybe. We have suspicions, but no solid proof. We're kind of waiting on the grill Sherlock and John found for us. Hopefully, some evidence will tie Hector to the killings."

"You'll get him." Mycroft encouraged.

"He might be killing people for aborting their children." Lestrade told him.

"Then, I presume he would not physically harm Darren?" Mycroft asked hopefully.

Lestrade thought about it as they sat down. "I don't know for sure. Hector was always unpredictable. And we didn't exactly get along when we knew each other."

"Oh?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Hector was sergeant, and I was just a PC when we met. And on one case, Hector was late to respond to a crime scene and DI Meadows just gave up waiting on him and started investigating without him. This sort of worked as a catalyst which opened up many fights between them, apparently they didn't work so well together and Hector stormed off. DI Meadows just shrugged it off and continued on the case without him and I was assigned to fill in for Hector.

"After the case was closed, DI Meadows suggested I try out for position of sergeant... Hector happened to overhear him and that started a one-sided rivalry between us. A while later, Hector was reassigned to work with another DI and I began working with DI Meadows. Then, I turned sergeant and our rivalry continued.

"After a few months, it became evident that my and DI Meadows's arrest rates were higher than Hector's and he began straining to keep up and started messing up on the job. A little while after that, it became apparent that he had problems, which exposed his hidden drug addiction and he was discharged from the force. Somehow, he blamed me for it and I haven't heard of him since."

Lestrade turned his palms upward to the ceiling. "I wouldn't be surprised if he still resents me after all these years. That man could hold a grudge like nobody's business."

"It's hardly your fault." Mycroft furrowed his brow.

"Tell that to _him._" Lestrade said dryly.

"And you believe that he is behind all this?" Mycroft asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Lestrade sighed. "I mean, even when we worked together, he'd always set 'pranks' that sometimes bordered on threatening... kind of like the card on my doorstep. He'd try to make me slip up and get scared. He..." Lestrade trailed off. "... There was just something... not right about him."

"Do you think he is capable of all this?" Mycroft asked next.

Lestrade thought about it long and hard. "I think so."

Mycroft let out a breath. "Very well. I will have men keep an eye on this Scott Hector."

Lestrade let out a breath and nodded. It was nice to have Mycroft around sometimes. Usually, when he was on cases, he had subordinates like Donovan always looking to him for answers and orders. It was just sort of relieving to have someone sometimes take the reins from him.

"Thanks, Mycroft." Then, Lestrade thought about Mycroft's presence for a moment. "Hey, wait a moment, weren't you overseas on some job?"

Mycroft coughed. "Well..." he shrugged. "I was worried, so I came back."

"Just like that?" Lestrade asked incredulously.

"Temporarily." Mycroft sighed. "Unfortunately, I will have to go back and resume my work."

Lestrade let out a laugh. "Well, don't let me keep you!"

Mycroft nodded and kissed Lestrade first on the forehead, and then on the lips.

"Thanks for checking up on me." Lestrade smiled gratefully.

"I'll be back soon. Be safe." Mycroft replied.

* * *

"Sergeant Donovan, I am surprised to see you here." Mycroft said as he was leaving Lestrade's office.

"One of the downsides of working with governors like Lestrade." Donovan shrugged. "You start picking up their bad habits."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

Donovan smiled a little. "One thing I learned early on from Lestrade, one thing he always tells the boys is 'It's okay to be scared of the monsters out there.'" A slight glint of determination sparked in Donovan's eye. "'But it's _not_ okay to let them see that you are.'" She looked over at Lestrade's office, jaw tightening. "He's really more shaken up about the pictures of Darren than he let's on." She shook her head. "He's just too stubborn to let our killer win."

Mycroft let out a sigh. "A most tenacious man."

"He'll out-stubborn a mule one day." Donovan joked. "But that's one of the things that makes him so good at what he does."

Mycroft nodded with a slight smile. "I know Sergeant, I know."

And he walked out.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Lestrade hung up on Dr. Fulton and immediately punched the air. "Yes! The DNA on the grill came back positive!" he exclaimed.

"Great!" Donovan grinned. "And, records show all three of our victims visited an abortion clinic around the same time. Hector probably heard about them at the hospital or something. Anyway, we've got motive for all the kills. Do we get our guy now?"

"Yeah, but we'll have to find him first." Lestrade sighed. He had heard from Anthea that Mycroft's men had still been unable to find Scott Hector. Nevertheless, the search was still underway.

"We've got a few boys on stakeout at the sewers, if Hector tries to get in again, they'll get him." Donovan said.

"Good." Lestrade grunted, wondering who would find Hector first, Sherlock and John, the police, or Mycroft?

* * *

Lestrade's phone rang just as he was walking into the break room for a cup of coffee. He picked up. "Hello?"

_"Mary, Mary, quite contrary."_ Hector cooed, not even bothering with the voice changer this time. _"I see you've found me out, rookie."_

"It's Detective Inspector, now." Lestrade retorted.

Hector chuckled a little. _"I know."_

"What do you want?" Lestrade asked, fairly running to an electronics expert to run a trace.

_"I have a feeling you'll be asking me that alot more from now."_ Hector smiled.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. _"Little Darren. Such a precious boy, isn't he?"_ Hector hummed. _"He thinks I'm the 'Nightmare Man'."_

Lestrade's heart sank into his stomach. Donovan ran up to him with a phone in hand. "It's your ex-wife, Sir." she said grimly.

Lestrade felt an ominous premonition... like he knew what she was going to say next.

"She said that Darren's disappeared."

Lestrade's phone slipped from his frozen grasp and fell to the floor. He could hear Hector cackling on the other end like some demented super-villain.

Lestrade dove down and grabbed the phone. "You son of a bitch." he hissed angrily.

_"Now, now, is that any way to talk to the man who has your son?"_ Hector crooned, clearly enjoying Lestrade's distress.

"Let me talk to him."

_"I don't think you're in any position to demand."_ Hector tsked scoldingly.

Lestrade gritted his teeth. "What do you want, Hector?"

_"Ah! There it is."_ Hector giggled. _"I told you."_

"Spit it out."

_"I've always been envious of you, Lestrade."_ Hector sighed. _"Always 'Lestrade this' or 'Lestrade that'. Since a long time ago, you've had it good in life. I've always been... resentful of that. Meadows liked you, you had a few lucky breaks, turned DI, married a good broad, got a Hell of a sergeant, I'll give you that."_ Donovan gritted her teeth. _"And had a gorgeous son... That should've been me, you know."_

"It's not about us now." Lestrade replied levelly.

_"Oh but it is!"_ Hector chuckled back. _"See, I've always wanted to be a father..."_

Lestrade suddenly felt lightheaded and saw grey spots. "No..."

_"And now, what I want, is for you to understand how it feels... to lose your only child. Let's see if you can find me first."_ And with that, Hector cut the connection.

"No!" Lestrade shouted desperately. "No, you _son of a bitch!_" He dropped his phone and buried his face in his hands.

Donovan wisely moved away to give him some time alone.

Lestrade fell to his knees.

_"Give me back my son, you bastard!"_ he sobbed quietly.

* * *

The waiting was Hell. Lestrade thought as he forwent coffee and slowly brewed a cup of tea. That was one advantage of always being a copper in a kidnapping case and not the victim's family. You were detached, worried, but not to an agonizing extent.

He walked back to his office and placed his mug of tea on his desk, clasping his hands together to stop their shacking. From outside the glass office, the DI looked to be in fervent prayer.

An hour later, his phone buzzed with a text._ Tracked killer down to warehouse. Holding hostage. -SH_ And an address was sent to him.

Lestrade jumped up with such force that he knocked his cup of tea over. But he wasn't bothered. He dashed out of his office, forgetting his coat, and frantically gestured to Donovan. "We've got a lead!"

Donovan snapped into action and darted after him.

_En route. -A_

_It would be foolish of me to reason with you. Go get your son. And be safe. -MH_

Lestrade forced a grim smile and mounted a vehicle with Donovan at the wheel.

* * *

"Just you wait!" Darren huffed to his kidnapper confidently, calmer than most children would be if he had been grabbed off the street and watched two unidentified men try to come to his rescue and were shot. Mycroft would throw a fit at that later.

"My daddy is a detective! He's gonna catch you and throw you in jail!" Darren declared.

"Oh, is that right?" Hector smiled back indulgently.

"Straight to jail. Do not pass go." Darren sassed.

Hector just laughed. "That's cute, kid."

"Are you waiting for Daddy to come?" Darren asked.

"Do you think he's going to come?" Hector asked back.

"He'll come." Darren declared with all the faith of a child.

"Even if he knows it's a trap?"

"Then he'll come with a plan." Darren retorted.

"You really take after him, don't you?"

Darren just shrugged.

They continued waiting.

* * *

It was growing late and the sun had set about five minutes ago. Lestrade shivered when he got out of the car outside the warehouse. In all his hurry to get to the warehouse, he had forgotten his coat.

Not to worry. He'd just get in, get it over with, and get out. Get it? Got it? Good. Now, if only everything would work out as planned, that would be great.

He reached out and pushed open the rusty warehouse doors with a loud screech.

"Daddy!" A young voice shouted.

Lestrade perked up immediately and he cast his glance around the dark warehouse. "Darren?" he called out.

He heard footsteps and Hector walked out of the shadows, a restricting hand on the back of Darren's neck, a gun in the other. "Hello, Lestrade." he said. "Nice to finally reunite in person."

"I wish I can say the same." Lestrade replied curtly.

Hector tilted his head and mock-winced. "Ooh, ouch..."

"It's over, Hector." Lestrade told him. "Give Darren back."

"It's not over till I say it is." Hector quipped back.

"You can't win this. Just let go of Darren and walk out of here with me."

"'I can't win'?" Hector smirked. "I don't have to win, I just have to make sure you lose." His grip on the gun tightened against Darren's temple.

"Darren is innocent, Hector." Lestrade reasoned. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Oh, don't pull the 'You can't kill him, he's innocent' speech on me." Hector scoffed. "I was a copper, I dished out my fair share of bullshit in my time."

"Oi! No cursing!" Lestrade snapped out of habit.

"You said a bad word!" Darren exclaimed at the same time.

_"Shut up!"_ Hector roared over the both of them. "Shut up! It's not about the guilty, or the innocent! It's not about justice! It's about anger! And revenge! Envy!"

The two Lestrades exchanged looks. Darren's was a clear 'Daddy! Daddy! Help! He's a crazy man!' And Lestrade's was 'Holy shit, he's crazy! Sorry Darren, bad word. Stay calm, you can work through this.'

He raised both hands in a calming gesture. "Hey, hey, just relax a little, would you, Hector?" Hector rolled an 'are you serious?' look at him. "Okay, let's talk about this, yeah?"

"What's there to talk about? I wanted a child, and that bitch went and killed it! You have a son, but I won't let you keep him." Hector replied.

"If you're angry at me,_ take it out on me!_" Lestrade shouted back desperately. "Leave Darren out of it!"

"It's just not the same." Hector shook his head sadly. "This way is much more painful." He leaned down ever so slightly and spoke to Darren without taking his eyes off Lestrade. "Sorry, kiddo, but Daddy can't save you this time." He smirked at Lestrade. "Can he?"

Lestrade tightened his jaw, hands raised. "You're right." he said at length. Hector's grin widened and his finger tightened on the trigger. "I can't." he admitted defeat.

Hector smirked triumphantly and removed the gun from Darren's head, moving to point the gun at Lestrade.

_**Bang!**_

Lestrade hit the ground hard. He had ducked at just the right moment to get out of John's line of fire the moment Hector's gun was no longer pointed at Darren.

"But I know someone who can." he said. He dashed to Darren's side and steadied the shaking boy.

"Daddy..." Darren whimpered.

"Shh." Lestrade whispered soothingly as he hugged him. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you." he promised.

Hector was thrown back by the force of the bullet penetrating his torso and Lestrade's eyes narrowed. The unnatural way Hector's body fell... Lestrade had seen people get shot before, this was different.

John and Sherlock, who were hidden on the catwalk on the second floor, exchanged glances. Bulletproofed vest! Everybody realized simultaneously.

Hector landed with a thud, but hastily tried to recover. He lost the battle, but it wasn't over yet... He aimed at Darren...

Lestrade scrambled into action and launched himself at him, latching onto Hector's wrist in a vice-like grip and the two battled viciously over the gun.

Hector had been injured by John's bullet despite the flak vest, but he was still the larger, and stronger of the two and he pushed Lestrade back inch by inch. The barrel of the gun was turning dangerously close to Lestrade's head.

Hector knew it, and Lestrade knew it. Hector smirked. "'Now I couldn't live in a world where you have everything and I have nothing.'" he panted with exertion, quoting from the Count of Monte Cristo.

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic." Lestrade ground back. "But I really don't give a damn about that right now because I have something that I've been dying to say to you since the beginning of the case..."

He gripped Hector's wrists tighter and gritted his teeth, eyes flashing, and with one powerful shove, he crushed Hector's wrists back against the man's chest and the gun accidentally fired under the ex-copper's chin, blowing away the bottom half of his face. Lestrade scrambled back with a startled yell.

He stared Hector's body for a moment, shocked. Then he breathed out shakily."... Stay the fuck away from my son."

A minute or two later, he was joined by Donovan and Anthea, who offered to help transfer Hector's body to the morgue as the rest of the police force hadn't quite caught up to them.

John and Sherlock followed on their heels. "Jesus..." John groaned when he snuck a peek at the body, then he approached Darren to make sure he was alright.

Sherlock just stared at Hector for a moment or two, then he looked at Lestrade. "Didn't think you had it in you." he said at length. "To take a life in order to save one."

Lestrade glanced at Darren, who was slowly beginning to talk to John. "To tell you the truth... I didn't either." he confessed. "Until I did."

Sherlock and he exchanged a look of understanding, then Lestrade staggered to his feet to go to his son.

Darren saw him move and immediately lunged for him, barreling into him and knocking the both of them to the ground. John and Sherlock surreptitiously moved to stand between the two Lestrades and Hector's corpse as Anthea and Mycroft's other minions loaded the body into a van.

Darren had been kidnapped and held hostage already, they didn't need to traumatize him any more than that.

Darren seemed intent on burying himself in his father's stomach, little arms wrapped tight around Lestrade's waist. "Daddy, that was scary." he said breathlessly.

Lestrade just chuckled weakly. "Looks like you inherited my habit of understatement."

"You caught the Nightmare Man." Darren whispered.

Lestrade's eyes softened and he petted the boy's head. "Yeah, Darren, yeah I did."

"Sir, I think you should get yourself looked at by the paramedics-..." Donovan tried to tell him but Lestrade waved her off.

"Nope. Not happening, sergeant." he grinned, picking Darren up. "I am going to go and get Darren checked out, and then I'm going to drive him back home to Dorset, I'm going to turn off my phone, and then I'm going to sit my arse down and watch that movie... what's-it-called? Jack Frost and the Nightmare Man, or something?"

Darren giggled. "Rise of the Guardians."

"Right, that." Lestrade grinned widely at Darren's smile. "And then I'm going to get a good night's sleep. Okay? We'll figure out what's going to happen after all that. I'm going to take my son home."

Donovan just smiled and watched them leave. "Okay, Sir."

"Hey, Darren, you think we should get some popcorn on the way home?" Lestrade asked as he and his son walked out of the warehouse.

"Duh, Daddy. Don't be silly."


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

Lestrade ended up staying the night in Dorset with Darren and Eva, the ex-wife wouldn't let him hear the end of Darren getting kidnapped. She was furious and Lestrade was just as angry with himself. But they came to an impasse, as they usually did, and after a whole night of arguing, talking, and overall comforting, Lestrade was civilly allowed to go home.

Good thing is, Lestrade watched Darren's favorite movie, and Eva hadn't killed him. That counted as a win in his books.

Finally, he had returned to his own flat and dragged his feet into the front door. There was a flight of stairs leading up to his flat and Lestrade saw grey spots dance in front of his eyes at the menacing sight.

He must've passed out at some point or another, from exhaustion. Because at one moment he was swaying dangerously on his feet, and the next he was lying on the floor, half sprawled on the first stair.

He pushed himself up and used the wall to steady himself as he stood. "Come on." he murmured to himself. "You know how to do this. One step after another."

But he couldn't do it. He was tired, he wanted to give up. The case was closed, it felt like marionette strings being cut and he had suddenly been given supernatural 'permission' to fall asleep.

He rubbed his eye with the hand not grasping the wall. Oh, God... if he didn't fight it now, he was going to sit right down on the staircase and fall asleep. And then his landlord and his neighbors would never let him hear the end of it.

After a moment or two of mental cajoling, Lestrade gave up the endeavor and leaned onto the wall, sliding down and sitting on the floor, curled up like a child.

He remembered the rotting corpses, the threats, Donovan's assault, Darren, and Hector's bloody face inches from his own... he began to tremble and tears threatened to spill from his eyes when he realized just how close they all had come to dying. His best friend and his son...

He sniffed once, and then again. And then he roughly rubbed his eyes. "Nope. Don't cry. Not gonna do it." he said to himself.

... He lied.

He just sat there, sniffing and hiccuping softly into his knees for some time, shaking all the while.

* * *

Mycroft walked in a few hours later to find Lestrade still sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

_Crying._

Mycroft had seen evidence of tears on Lestrade before, but he had never actually see the man in the act of crying before in his life. He was a little in shock.

A moment or two passed before Lestrade noticed him and wiped his face ruefully with the back of his hand.

"._.. Stairs_." He said, voice rough and gravelly from exhaustion, strain, and frustration. "Goddamn-..."

"Gregory, what happened?" Mycroft asked him levelly. "Who should I kill?"

Lestrade choked out a laugh. "Stairs, Mycroft." he reminded. "Appeared out of nowhere at the least opportune moment."

Mycroft stared at Lestrade for a moment, turned, and narrowed his eyes at the top of the staircase where he presumed Lestrade had placed a personal goal. "Stairs. Right."

When he looked at those stairs, he saw a simple staircase, one step leading up to another in order to attain new heights. But he knew that at that moment, when Lestrade looked at those stairs, he saw an insurmountable mountain of enormous proportions.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head before gripping Lestrade's shoulder firmly and helping him to his feet. "Let's get you some rest, shall we?" he murmured softly.

Lestrade just whined and grumbled incoherently under his breath, falling asleep on his feet, head lolling into the crook of Mycroft's neck.

Mycroft just snorted fondly and somehow managed to maneuver him carefully up the stairs and into his flat.

Within minutes of breaking into Lestrade's flat, after deciding not to unintentionally molest Gregory looking for his house keys, Mycroft had Lestrade in bed and under the safety of his covers. Mycroft felt a little guilty, watching Lestrade curl up into himself, tracks left from tears still visible... vulnerable. A complete opposite of the stubbornly brave and resilient DI Lestrade who stood toe-to-toe with the scum of the earth and stared it down without a blink.

But now, in the safety and privacy of his home, Lestrade had no need to think and act like the man in charge of a crisis, the fearless leader, the servant of the Law.

He was just Gregory Lestrade. Just a man who was tired and scared and had little fight left in him.

Mycroft brushed his hand over Lestrade's cheek and reluctantly moved away.

"Mycroft." Lestrade whimpered from under his covers, latching onto Mycroft's retreating hand with a slightly desperate grip. "_Mycroft..._" Whispered like a prayer.

Mycroft turned and sat on the bed by Lestrade's side, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back like he used to do to comfort Sherlock when he was young and got into fights at school. "Very well, Gregory." he relented, understanding his lover's unvocalized plea and pressing a kiss onto Lestrade's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Mycroft had no idea how long he sat there, rubbing Lestrade's back. But when he next realized, he had somehow fallen asleep beside Lestrade and the sun was bleeding beautifully through the halfway closed curtains.

Lestrade was not alright after a case like that. Mycroft knew. He wouldn't be 'okay' for a long time, but he'd slowly get there. Mycroft would make certain of that. ... Starting with proper sleep and some decent food.

Mycroft climbed carefully under the covers to make sure Lestrade did not wake, and snuggled into his lover's side.

The sun was beginning to shine again, after a long, harrowing storm.

* * *

A few days later, the man stood leaning on his car outside Mycroft Holmes's house, a boy standing beside him.

The two shifted their weight from one foot to the other in tandem, cocked one hip out, and crossed their arms.

"He's late." The man grunted.

"Maybe you should call him." the boy responded.

"Hm, maybe I should." the man said, then he sucked in a large breath. "Mycroft! Get your arse down here, we're waiting!" He called out loudly.

Inside the house, Mycroft and Eva, Darren's mother, exchanged exasperated glances.

"Well, I guess we should be going." Mycroft rolled his eyes wryly.

"Impatient boys." Eva nodded sagely. "Always. I guess we'll save swapping embarrassing stories about Gregory for next visit?"

They walked out of the front door to see Lestrade and his son standing by the car in the exact same impatient stance, sending them identical looks of annoyance at having to wait.

Father and son. The resemblance was remarkable.

It was adorable.

Mycroft turned to Eva. "You must come visit again sometime, Eva." he said. "I insist."

Lestrade and Darren exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes.

Eva and Mycroft smiled, then said their goodbyes.

After Eva and Darren had driven off to go back to Dorset, Lestrade turned to Mycroft. "You looked like you got on with Eva. Better than I thought you would." he said.

"She and I have similar tastes in men, apparently." Mycroft deadpanned back.

Lestrade huffed out a breath of laughter and shook his head. "Did you get along with Darren?" he asked tentatively.

Mycroft smiled back warmly. "Gregory, I love your son."

"Everyone says he takes well after me."

"Understandable." Mycroft kissed Lestrade. "I love you too."

THE END


End file.
